


Restart My Life

by CrystalWaters72



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Gen, Mostly Canon Compliant, Post-Season/Series 02, can it be both canon compliant and canon divergence, you know most of the characters are very briefly mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalWaters72/pseuds/CrystalWaters72
Summary: Peter never really fully recovered





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hAHAHAH you know I actually really liked this when I first wrote it but now it makes me cringe hope you enjoy
> 
> featuring: Amnesiac!Peter! Nathan being a good brother! Very brief mentions of everyone in the tags but Peter and Nathan! Possibly very bad writing on my part! Forgetting that the timeline is a thing and just not caring at the beginning!

Sometimes Peter forgot. Not like he did in Ireland, but more like the small stuff. Where he was when he woke up, what he was doing, how to do certain things. He didn’t think much of it. He didn’t see it as a big deal after losing his whole life.

It got worse after a few months. He would wake up and blank on things. His name, the other man in the picture on his bedside table, the fact that superpowers were real.

Some things were easier to remember than others, and some he had to relearn the hard way. He hurt himself twice due to powers, only to heal shortly after.

Sometimes he would be talking to someone on the phone, only to forget who he was talking to and why. He was getting better at hiding the fact that he forgot, but Nathan always caught on. Maybe it was the fact that he hesitated before talking, or how he barely said anything until he remembered. It could also be that Nathan rarely called Peter, and that the latter couldn’t remember why he called in the first place.

Peter’s brother kept asking if he could do anything so Peter wouldn’t forget, or to help him remember. He once offered to help Peter make a journal about his whole life and everything he knew so he could have easy access to things he’s forgotten. Peter would keep insisting that he’s fine, it barely happens. It was a lie, of course. The worse it got, the more frequent he forgot.

After about a year, he woke up to nothing. Not his name, age, birthday. Nothing. He cautiously wandered around his apartment that day, not even knowing if it was his. Around the time that the alarm clock by the bed said ten, he found a phone. It wasn’t locked, which surprised him. He went to the phone app, and the first contact on the speed dial said ‘Nathan’. He called.

“ _Hello?_ ” came a familiar, yet foreign, voice.

“Is this Nathan?” he asked, hesitantly. He knew the contact said it was, but he didn’t know what ‘Nathan’ sounded like.

There was a lengthy pause. He held his breath. “ _Of course it’s me, Pete. Who else would it be?_ ”

“Pete,” he said, voice no louder than a whisper. “Is that my name?”

Another pause. “ _Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right there._ ” The call disconnected.

He sat on the couch, knees held against his chest, for what felt like hours. _My name is Pete_ , he kept saying to himself. When he heard a knock on the door, he jumped up and hurried to the door. Looking through the peephole, he recognized the man as the other person in the picture beside the bed. He unlocked and opened the door.

“Nathan?” he asked, his voice weak.

His shoulders were grabbed by the other man, who nodded. “I’m going to help you, Peter. We’ll sort this out.” Nathan pulled him — _Peter_ , he told himself. _I’m Peter_ — into a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

After Nathan helped Peter remember, the younger Petrelli decided it was best if he followed Nathan’s advice and made a journal. It took hours of work to fill out one journal, and that wasn’t even the full story. Nathan stayed at Peter’s apartment so they could work more efficiently, and for the fact that it was possible Peter could forget everything again.

Peter avoided the topic of his amnesia as much as he could. It was torture for him to try to write about his time in Ireland, as Nathan couldn’t help him with that. When they were done, after three days, Nathan wrote ‘In case you forget’ on a piece of paper, the words big and bold. After Nathan left, Peter labeled the different parts of the journals, in case he only forgot some parts of his life and not the whole thing. He piled the journals on his dining table, where it was noticeable. He spent a little time each day adding to them.

***

He got better after he lost his powers. Before that, he would forget something every other day. Nothing major, just the small stuff. He was lucky if he forgot a big chunk of his life once every few months. Most of the time, it was more often than that.

After losing his powers, though, he didn’t forget. He was happy, ecstatic, even, at that fact. He thought maybe it had something to do with his powers. But Peter wasn’t thinking about that when he injected himself with the formula for powers. He was thinking about saving his brother.

He was relieved when his amnesia didn’t come back after he regained his powers. He considered the thought that maybe it was because it wasn’t his original power, but he couldn’t prove whether that was true or not.

***

He started to forget again after Nathan’s death, the death of his soul. Hours after he watched Sylar crash into the car, Peter forgot why he was crying. He remembered minutes later, and, in his grief, he decided to write in the latest journal. His handwriting was shaky, barely legible. He put the journal back, and placed the piece of paper back in its place. Peter stared at the words Nathan imprinted onto the white surface.

He wiped away his tears and slowly walked to his bedroom. Choking back a sob, he punched the wall. And then again. And again. And again. He kept punching until his knuckles bled. Until he almost broke a hole through the wall. He looked at the ruined area of the wall. The paint that was chipping off the wood. He laughed, but there was no humour in the sound. “Guess that’s another thing I need to remember.”

He didn’t sleep much that night.

***

After gaining his mother’s ability, he bought another journal to keep track of his dreams. His amnesiac periods have gotten worse, and prophetic dreams were too important to forget. He wanted to know what his mother’s dreams had revealed about Emma, and he didn’t want to forget them.

***

When he had arrived at Matt’s house, looking for Sylar, he forgot why he came in the first place. He paced back and forth, trying to remember. He hadn’t brought any of his journals with him, an action he regretted deeply. Peter wondered if he even put the reason in one of his journals.

He didn’t waste any time after he remembered. He didn’t want to risk forgetting again. He knocked and took Matt’s power. Peter needed to get to Sylar before he forgot. He vaguely wondered what would happen if he forgot anything when he was in Sylar’s head. He put his hand to Sylar’s forehead and dived in, not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably two chapters
> 
> Maybe
> 
> Not sure still writing the second one and oh boy it might take a while
> 
> I mean I've been writing it since June so ya know


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out the best cure for lack of inspiration is reading half of what you have so far, watch an episode of Heroes while writing your own commentary for it, and then finish reading what you have so far because I wrote the last four paragraphs in less than ten minutes which was actually all I needed to finish honestly
> 
> Featuring: More characters that are also briefly mentioned! Having no idea what I'm doing while writing! Partially throwing logic out the window because I don't completely understand what's possible in the Wall! My writing style from another fic not going away which makes the ending seem kinda weird! Petlar? No Petlar? Who knows!

A week, give or take a few days. That’s how long before Peter forgot something. It was something easy to find out, thank God. His name. That’s what he forgot. He remembered Nathan and the journals they made together, which allowed him to find out the missing piece of information quickly.

He guessed that his random bouts of amnesia wasn’t one of the things that Sylar remembered of Nathan’s life.

He forgot everything after about a month. He found the journals, with the paper that said ‘In case you forget’ on top of them. They didn’t explain why there were no people in the city. Besides himself and the man he hated. He didn’t remember until the next day. It took him hours to figure out that he didn’t have the other journals because Nathan never read them. He only read what he and Peter wrote those three days. Peter debated with himself whether or not he should ask Sylar to read the rest that Peter wrote. He decided against it. He still didn’t want to talk to the man who murdered his brother.

***

Sylar didn’t find out until after a year they spent together. He’s been trying to befriend Peter over the last few months. He was tired of fighting. They were going to be trapped here, all alone, for who knows how long. Sylar didn’t want the two of them to hate each other all that time. At least, that’s what he told Peter. He didn’t know whether he believed the killer or not.

It was another day that Peter forgot everything. He read all the journals that were on the dining table, yet he didn’t know why there were no people on the streets. It was too quiet for the city that never sleeps.

A knock at the door startled Peter out of his panicked state. He rushed to the door, but froze when he heard whoever was on the other side speak.

“ _Come on, Peter. You can’t ignore me forever,_ ” came the muffled words.

Peter filled with rage. He unlocked and opened the door. “What did you do, Sylar?” he yelled, voice shaking. He didn’t know whether it was from fear, rage, or both.

Sylar stepped back, a shocked expression on his face. “What do you mean?” he asked, with seemingly genuine confusion.

Peter scoffed. “Like you don’t know! Why aren’t there any people? What did you do?!”

Sylar’s shocked expression changed to one of utter confusion. “Peter, there hasn’t been anyone else for a year.” Sylar paused, eyebrows furrowing. “Are… Are you okay?”

Peter froze. “A… year?” he asked, voice breaking. He stepped back, shaking his head. A year?! How much happened since the journals stopped? He watched as Sylar slowly stepped into the apartment, looking around. “If there hasn’t been anyone else,” he said, mostly to himself, “then where’s Nathan?”

Sylar’s head snapped over to face Peter, a somewhat pained expression on his face. “You mean you don’t remember?” he whispered.

“No, Sylar! No! I don’t remember! I don’t know why we’re the only ones here! I don’t know why you aren’t trying to kill me! None of that information is in these stupid journals!” Peter yelled, sweeping the journals off the table. Sylar looked down at the paper that landed near his feet.

“In case you forget,” Sylar read, his voice quiet. He looked up. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? You forgot again. I thought you didn’t forget things anymore?”

Peter stiffened. “And what would you know about that?” he asked, hesitant.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Sylar asked, ignoring the question that was asked.

“Spending three days writing the journals.” That was the last thing he read. How much has happened since then?

“Oh, Peter,” Sylar said, features softening. “I can fill you in on Nathan and what happened during the last year, but I’m sorry that I can’t tell you what happened with you after that point. You might want to sit down.”

***

Peter finally let Sylar read the other journals a few days after he remembered everything. If he knew what the journals said, they would all be there if he ever forgot again.

He went back to trying to break through the wall. Sylar tried beside him. Peter figured that if he didn’t go to sleep, then he wouldn’t wake up forgetting. But he forgot about something, which wasn’t caused by his amnesia. He could forget without having to sleep.

He was about to swing the sledgehammer again when he blanked on what he was doing. He remembered that he and Sylar were trapped in the latter’s head. But why was he swinging a sledgehammer at a brick wall? Why was there even a brick wall in the alley, anyway?

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Sylar stop hammering at the wall. “You okay there, Pete?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Peter blinked. “Um, Sylar?” he started. He licked his lips. “Why are we hitting this wall?”

The taller man sighed. “I guess the good thing is that you remember why we’re here in the first place.” Putting the sledgehammer down, he leaned back against the bricks. “We have to break through to get out of this hell,” he said, looking at Peter.

“Oh,” Peter said. It still didn’t make sense. Why would they have to break through a wall? Trying to find the key to a door would make more sense, if one were to think about it. Also, why weren’t there any dents in the bricks? Sylar had been hitting it with a sledgehammer, yet it looked like it was brand new. “I think I’m going to take a walk,” he said. He heard a sigh before footsteps started to follow him.

***

As much as he hated to admit it, Peter was glad that he let Sylar read the journals. It was a relief to know everything that had happened, instead of just what he and Nathan wrote together. The two of them decided to spend at least an hour updating them each week in case Peter forgot again and Sylar wasn’t there to help him remember.

He just got done reading the journals when Sylar knocked on his door. Peter spoke before Sylar could say a greeting. “Has it really been three years?” he asked.

Sylar nodded. He held up a container, which Peter had failed to notice when he opened the door. “I made pie,” Sylar said, like it was as common a thing as talking about how someone’s day was or asking if they were doing anything later.

“Pie,” Peter echoed.

“Yes, pie. I got the recipe from a… I guess you could call her an old friend,” Sylar said, a slight frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. He shook his head. “Anyway, I hope you like peach pie.”

Peter stepped aside to let Sylar in. He was well past trying to ignore the man, according to the journals. Sylar set the container on the counter to look for some plates. Peter moved the journals and paper into the living room onto the couch.

“Where did you get the recipe for this, again?” Peter asked, half of his slice gone.

“Elle,” Sylar said, fingers tightening around his fork.

Peter nodded. They went back to eating their pie in silence.

***

Four and a half years. That’s how long Peter and Sylar have been in this world of solitude.

Peter was getting a lot better. Not perfect; he still forgot sometimes. He hasn’t forgotten everything in over a year. Sylar seemed happy about that, but Peter didn’t know if that was actually Sylar talking or remnants of Nathan.

***

Peter woke up, not knowing where he was. He was sitting with his back against a brick wall. He was trying to break through a wall just a few seconds ago, so why was he now on the floor? Hearing a noise behind the bricks, he leaned down and put his ear against the wall. Then he remembered. He hurried and moved away, the bricks exploding into the room behind him.

Peter and Sylar walked to the basement stairs, ready to save Emma.

***

Peter almost had a heart attack when he forgot about abilities while he was flying with Sylar. He started to fall, but Sylar caught him. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Yes, Peter. I’m flying. Powers are real. You can fly, too, so hurry up and remember how. You’re heavy.”

“Right. Yeah. Okay.” It took a few seconds, but Peter was able to fly without Sylar’s help.

“Well, there’s Central Park,” Sylar said, pointing to where the two were headed.

Peter smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just hope I don’t forget what I’m doing, yeah?”

Sylar smiled back. “Here’s hoping.”

***

Peter’s fight or flight instincts really came in handy when his amnesia struck once again while he was fighting the guy who could _control the earth_. He held his ground when said ground pushed at him, and then he pushed it back.

His rush of adrenaline was fading when his powers suddenly stopped working.

Maybe it was because he calmed down, but Peter remembered why he was fighting in the first place. He smiled, knowing he had won.

But when he’s hugging Emma, he’s not sure whether he forgot that Sylar wasn’t bad anymore or was just panicking, but either way he was scared that Sylar did something stupid.

But when Peter rushes after Emma to find Sylar, the two of them share a smile that says it’s okay. He’s okay. They’re okay.

The shock of watching Claire jump from the Ferris wheel must have done something, though, because he doesn’t remember getting to his apartment that night. When he asks Sylar what happened, all he said was that it could wait until morning and to just eat and get some sleep.

Peter didn’t like the look on Sylar’s face, but didn’t press any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last scene seems kinda bad to me but I have no idea how else to do it and I like the way it ends the story so oh well
> 
> (Also that line about saving Emma makes me cringe every single time but I don't know how to word it so what can ya do)
> 
> I feel like I should make a sequel because the end seems like the type of end that introduces a sequel but I honestly don't know how to write a post-series fic that doesn't include that whole thing with revealing powers being covered up


End file.
